


The Senator/Prime/Empurata Victim, His Warden, and the Most Miserable Little Prison Ship in Space

by ckret2



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Gen, Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: When Shockwave asked if Prowl could execute him, Prowl said no.





	The Senator/Prime/Empurata Victim, His Warden, and the Most Miserable Little Prison Ship in Space

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all ever stop and think about how messed up it is that Prowl and Shockwave are just out there in a ship together

When Shockwave asked for a limb back, just one, Prowl said no. The jury had been very strict when they'd decreed that Shockwave was to be allowed absolutely nothing with which he might gain the power to start up another apocalyptic project, and a limb— _any_ limb—fell under that category. 

"Even a hand?" Shockwave asked. "Not my gun. Just a hand." 

Prowl said, "You've caused far more devastation with one hand than you ever did with a gun." 

And Shockwave didn't argue, because Prowl was correct. 

* * *

When Shockwave asked if he could do something to help Cybertron, anything, Prowl said no. 

"It doesn't have to be dangerous," Shockwave protested. "You don't have to let me go. You could describe the problem to me, out loud, and do the research I request—you don't even have to allow me to interface with a computer that way—and I'll solve the problem and report the solution to you." 

And Prowl said no again. 

"That's unreasonable. That's inefficient. I'm the greatest scientist in Cybertronian history, and you should be utilizing me. _Why not?_ " 

"Because," Prowl said, "seven million years ago, you started sewing ores into Cybertron in a _benevolent_ effort to prevent an energon crisis; and seven million years later, you used those ores to try to collapse the universe into a spaciotemporal singularity. Because five million years ago, you _selflessly_ opened up a school to promote the sciences and protect outliers, and five million years later its alumni are moving in lockstep with your curriculum of prophecies and bowing to the signs and portends you taught them—prophecies that you yourself wrote some nine million years ago. Because four million years ago, you started _generously_ surgically bestowing Matrix compatibility on a bevy of mechs you thought could lead Cybertron with wisdom and justice, and then ten million years ago you _invented_ Primes as a class of overpowered dictators solely so you could crow about inventing _and_ destroying faith—what rubbish—while your pet planet monster eats the entire galaxy. Every considerate, beneficial act you have ever committed was either later transformed into an evil scheme, or else retroactively altered by your own hand into one. So no, you don't get to help Cybertron. You never get to help Cybertron again. No matter how useful whatever you offer us will be _today,_ it pales into comparison to what it might become in three million years." 

Shockwave was silent, because again he could not argue with Prowl's point. _He_ knew he meant no harm; but seven, five, four million years ago, he hadn't meant harm either. 

* * *

When Shockwave asked if Prowl could execute him, Prowl said no. 

"Why not?" Shockwave asked miserably. "I can never do anything again and I can never contribute anything again. I'm useless _and_ bored." 

"I offered you a TV." 

"I don't want a TV." 

"That's your problem." 

"I'm a sink of time and resources that will never be repaid. Keeping me alive is inefficient," Shockwave said. "Why won't you just execute me and be done with it?" 

"Because the jury said life sentence, because the jury is full of idiots," Prowl said. "And I'm tired of defying idiots and getting in trouble for it. I'm tired and I don't care. You're locked up." 

Shockwave had nothing to say to that. So he synthesized the longest, most anguished sigh he could. 

Prowl rolled his optic. "Take heart," he said bitterly. "Cybertronians hate learning from their past mistakes. In a few million years, after the government has changed a couple of times, nobody will care what you did and everyone will feel bad for the poor senator/Prime/empurata victim out in space all alone. You'll get a full pardon and carte blanche to go destroy the universe again." 

"Is that why you're still alive?" Shockwave asked. "Are you waiting for enough time to pass that everyone will forget what they think of you?" 

Shockwave knew how existentially tired Prowl was. He'd seen how long he slept—and the amount of time he spent awake only seemed to be decreasing. He'd seen how Prowl sat in front of the ship's communications console for hours, leaving it on but unconnected, trying to think of someone—anyone—he could call and talk to. He'd seen how Prowl flipped listlessly through shows and novels before tossing them aside and trying, again, to sleep. 

Shockwave knew how hated, hated, hated Prowl was. Shockwave knew how alone Prowl was. 

Prowl didn't deny Shockwave's insinuation. He gave him a world-weary look and said, "No. I'm still alive because there's no one else in the universe I trust not to start doing you favors out of pity." 

"Of course. You don't pity me at all." 

"I pity you immensely," Prowl said coldly. "But I never let that make me forget that you deserve everything that's come to you." 

"Ah. Of course. Allowing your actions to be determined by your emotions would be—" 

"Don't say 'illogical.'" 

Sometimes, Shockwave couldn't help but to like Prowl. 

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr](http://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/181844146762/the-senatorprimeempurata-victim-his-warden-and).


End file.
